The contract did not arrive with drama.
No sirens. No shouting. No cinematic pause where the world seemed to hold its breath.
It arrived in a slim black folder, carried by a woman in a dove-gray suit who introduced herself as Elaine Carter, legal counsel for Myles Holdings, and who smiled like someone accustomed to watching other people sign away pieces of themselves.
Siobhan had expected intimidation—men in dark suits, heavy silence, pressure applied like a thumb to the throat.
Instead, there was lemon polish on the conference table, a framed Kandinsky on the wall, and a carafe of water already sweating condensation onto a linen coaster.
She sat anyway, spine stiff, Avery pressed into her left side and Jayden leaning back in his chair like a miniature bodyguard who'd seen too many movies.
Dominic Myles took the seat opposite her.
Up close, he was worse.
Not loud. Not cruel. Just… controlled. Every movement measured, every expression trimmed of excess. He wore a charcoal suit this time, the jacket left open as if to imply approachability, but his eyes never stopped assessing. Calculating.
She clocked the details without wanting to: the faint scar near his right eyebrow, the expensive watch he didn't glance at once, the way his attention kept drifting—unconsciously—back to the twins.
Predator, her instincts whispered.
Protector, something quieter argued back.
She ignored both.
Elaine slid the folder toward Siobhan. "This is a temporary marital agreement," she said calmly. "Designed solely to establish legal guardianship stability for Avery and Jayden Myles."
Temporary.
Marital.
Agreement.
Siobhan let out a short, disbelieving laugh before she could stop herself. "You want me to marry him."
Dominic did not react.
Elaine inclined her head. "In the eyes of the law, yes. In practice, it is a partnership with defined boundaries."
"Boundaries," Siobhan echoed, tasting the word. She looked at Dominic. "And if I say no?"
His jaw tightened—not in anger, but like someone bracing for impact. "Then I pursue other options."
"And those are?" she challenged.
"Court," he said simply. "Investigations. Child services. Questions your cousin does not want asked."
Megan's panicked face flashed in her mind. The car horn. The way she'd shoved the twins into Siobhan's arms like contraband.
Her hands curled into fists beneath the table.
Jayden swung his legs, watching Dominic with sharp, wary eyes. Avery leaned forward, chin on the table, studying the papers upside down.
"What's a dissolution clause?" Avery asked.
Elaine blinked. "Excuse me?"
"That word," Avery said, pointing. "It sounds like disintegrating."
Siobhan snorted despite herself.
Dominic exhaled slowly. "It means when the contract ends."
"When does it end?" Jayden asked.
Elaine glanced at Dominic. He answered himself. "When the children turn eighteen. Or earlier, if mutually agreed upon."
Avery's eyes flicked to Siobhan. "So you'd be our mom… until you're not."
Something twisted in Siobhan's chest.
She hadn't been anyone's anything for a long time.
Elaine cleared her throat. "Ms. Donovan, this agreement includes full financial security for the duration of the contract. Housing. Medical care. Education. Your existing debts will be settled."
"And Megan?" Siobhan asked sharply.
Dominic met her gaze. "Protected."
Not safe. Not free. Protected.
Like property.
Siobhan swallowed. "And what do you get out of it?"
Silence stretched.
Dominic folded his hands. "Stability."
"For who?" she pressed.
"For them," he said, nodding toward the twins. Then, quieter, "And for me."
That was the most honest thing he'd said so far.
Elaine slid a pen toward her.
The room felt suddenly smaller. Airless.
Siobhan thought of eviction notices. Of mold creeping like veins across the apartment ceiling. Of Megan's shaking hands. Of the bruise she still covered every morning.
She thought of Avery's drawing. Of Jayden's chipped tooth. Of the way both of them had clung to her like they already knew she was leaving someday.
She picked up the pen.
Her hand shook.
Dominic noticed.
He didn't comment.
She signed.
⸻
The townhouse smelled like rain and money.
Polished wood. Clean glass. Something faintly citrusy that made her think of hotel lobbies and lives that didn't fray at the edges.
Avery sprinted through the entryway the moment the door closed, her laughter echoing up the staircase like released birds. Jayden followed more cautiously, trailing a hand along the wall as if checking whether the house was real.
Siobhan stood frozen in the foyer, duffel bag at her feet, heart thudding.
This wasn't a home.
It was a fortress.
Dominic shrugged off his coat and handed it to someone Siobhan hadn't noticed—a housekeeper, maybe, who nodded politely and disappeared.
"Guest room is the third door on the left," Dominic said. "The children's room is upstairs."
"You're not worried I'll steal the silver?" Siobhan asked.
His mouth twitched. "We don't own silver."
She dragged her bag down the hall, every step echoing. The guest room was larger than her entire old apartment. The bed looked untouched. The windows faced a narrow street slick with rain.
She sat on the edge of the mattress and stared at her hands.
Married.
The word felt absurd. Fraudulent.
A knock sounded softly.
She tensed. "Yes?"
The door opened just enough for Avery to slip inside.
She climbed onto the bed without asking, swinging her legs. "Dad doesn't sleep much."
Siobhan blinked. "He told you that?"
Avery shrugged. "I hear him walking at night. Like he's guarding the house."
"Maybe he's just a bad sleeper."
Avery leaned closer. "He's scared."
That didn't fit the man Siobhan had met.
"He's scared of losing us," Avery continued. "That's why he chased us today."
Siobhan's pulse stuttered. "Chased you?"
Avery nodded solemnly. "We ran because Uncle Greg said Dad was taking us away."
Siobhan's blood went cold. "Who's Uncle Greg?"
Avery's face tightened. "Mom's brother."
"Where is he now?"
Avery smiled. "Dad doesn't let him visit anymore."
A chill crept up Siobhan's spine.
Before she could ask more, Jayden appeared at the door, peering in. "He's looking for you."
"Who?"
Jayden tilted his head. "Dad."
She rose slowly.
Dominic waited in the hallway, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. Less corporate shark. More… man.
"We need to set rules," he said.
"Already?" she shot back.
"Yes."
She crossed her arms. "Go on."
"You will not take the children out of the house without notifying me."
"Reasonable."
"You will not speak to the press."
"I don't talk to anyone with a microphone."
"You will not investigate their mother's death."
That stopped her.
"Why?" she asked.
His eyes hardened. "Because it's closed."
"Closed doesn't mean clean."
Silence snapped tight between them.
Finally, he said, "You are here to care for my children. Not dig into my past."
"Your past seems very interested in me," she replied.
A beat.
"Agreed," he said. "That's why this will work."
She laughed softly. "You're unbelievable."
"So I'm told."
The twins hovered behind him, watching like referees.
Dominic glanced at them, then back at Siobhan. "Dinner is at seven."
He turned and walked away.
Siobhan watched him go, unease curling in her stomach.
She had married a stranger.
A powerful one.
And whatever had happened to the twins' mother—it wasn't finished with them.
Not yet.
That night, long after the house settled into silence, Siobhan woke to the sound of footsteps.
Soft. Deliberate.
She slipped out of bed and cracked the door.
Dominic stood at the far end of the hall, phone pressed to his ear, voice low.
"…no, not yet. She doesn't know."
A pause.
"Yes. I'm sure."
Another pause.
"She's already attached."
Siobhan's breath caught.
Dominic turned suddenly.
Their eyes met across the dark hallway.
The call ended.
Neither of them spoke.
Something had shifted.
Something dangerous.
And Siobhan knew, with chilling certainty—
This contract was not protection.
It was a trap.
Siobhan did not sleep again that night.
She lay rigid beneath the guest room covers, staring at the ceiling until the shapes of the recessed lights burned into her vision. The house breathed around her—pipes ticking, floorboards sighing, distant hums of machines she didn't recognize. A fortress didn't sleep; it stayed alert.
Her phone buzzed at 2:17 a.m.
Unknown Number.
She hesitated, then opened it.
You shouldn't trust him.
Her throat tightened.
She typed back with trembling fingers.
Who is this?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Someone who knows what Dominic Myles does to people who get too close.
Cold spread through her chest, slow and deliberate.
If you care about those children, you'll leave before it's too late.
Before she could respond, the message vanished—deleted from the thread like it had never existed.
A trap, her instincts screamed.
She slid out of bed and padded to the door, pressing her ear to the wood. Silence. Too much of it. The kind that waited.
She crept toward the twins' room.
The attic light was on.
Avery sat cross-legged on the floor, whispering fiercely while Jayden stacked blocks into a crooked tower.
"You're not supposed to be awake," Siobhan said softly.
Avery looked up, unfazed. "Dad's mad."
Jayden corrected her. "Not mad. Busy."
"With who?" Siobhan asked.
They exchanged a look.
"The man who took Mommy," Avery said.
Siobhan's stomach dropped. "What?"
Jayden swallowed. "Dad says we shouldn't talk about it."
Avery tilted her head. "But you're family now."
The word now landed like a blade.
"What happened to your mother?" Siobhan asked carefully.
Avery's face hardened into something too old. "She disappeared."
Jayden added, quieter, "After she tried to leave."
Siobhan's blood roared in her ears.
"Leave who?" she whispered.
Avery smiled faintly. "Dad."
The room seemed to tilt.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs—measured, unmistakable.
Dominic appeared in the doorway, face unreadable.
"That's enough," he said.
Avery crossed her arms. "You're too late."
Silence cracked open between them.
Dominic's gaze flicked to Siobhan, sharp and assessing, as if recalculating. "You should go back to bed."
Siobhan stood slowly. "They said their mother disappeared."
"Yes."
"After she tried to leave you."
Another beat.
"Yes."
"Did you—" Siobhan's voice faltered. "Did you hurt her?"
Something dark crossed his face—not guilt, not anger. Grief. Sharp and buried.
"No," he said. "But someone else did."
She searched his expression for a lie and found only restraint.
Dominic crouched in front of the twins. "Go to sleep."
They obeyed instantly.
That terrified her more than shouting ever could.
In the hallway, Siobhan confronted him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because fear makes people careless."
"You're manipulating me."
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "For their safety."
She laughed bitterly. "You don't get to decide what I'm afraid of."
He stepped closer. Too close. His voice dropped. "Then decide quickly. Because someone is watching you now."
Her pulse slammed. "Who sent the message?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he handed her a slim phone. "Use this one. Don't trust your old contacts."
"This is insane."
"This is survival."
She stared at the device, realization creeping in, icy and precise.
"This marriage," she said slowly. "It's not just about the kids."
"No," Dominic admitted. "It's about bait."
Her breath caught. "I'm the bait."
"You're the shield," he corrected. "They won't touch the children if you're in the way."
Rage surged. "You used me."
"Yes."
"Without my consent."
"I gave you a choice."
"You cornered me!"
He met her fury head-on. "Because they would have killed you anyway."
The words dropped like a gunshot.
Siobhan staggered back.
"Who?" she demanded.
Dominic's jaw clenched. "Your cousin's husband."
The room spun. "That's impossible."
"He's not who you think he is," Dominic said quietly. "And neither was Megan."
Her world fractured.
"Everything about this," Siobhan whispered, "was planned."
"Yes."
A trap.
Not for her.
For the people who thought she was disposable.
Dominic stepped back, giving her space at last. "You can still leave."
She laughed, sharp and broken. "And abandon them?"
He didn't answer.
Siobhan looked down the hall toward the attic door, where two small lives slept because she was standing here.
She straightened.
"Then teach me," she said. "Teach me how to survive this."
Something like respect flickered in Dominic's eyes.
"Welcome to the trap," he said.
And for the first time, Siobhan understood—
She wasn't married to a man.
She was standing at the center of a war.